


Why did you steal my cotton candy heart?

by c00nt



Series: Round & Round Like a Horse on a Carousel [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/F, In any case I'm glad that we're all in this together, Infidelity, Part 2 of this sin-sation!, So apparently there is indeed an audience for this, Who knew that there'd be so many sinners into such a specific brand of debauchery?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c00nt/pseuds/c00nt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke's POV of the Carousel series.</p><p>(AKA the 2nd installment of that Carmilla / The 100 Crossover WTF Infidelity AU that absolutely no one would ever ask for)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you read Laura's POV (aka Part 1) yet? 
> 
> If not, here you go: [:D](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6442465/chapters/14746657)
> 
> If so, welcome back & enjoy ❤︎

Clarke was drunk, and very, _very_ much so.

Normally, she’d be embarrassed at just how much she was stumbling—tripping over her own feet every three steps—but at the moment, Clarke was way too drunk to care.  Of course, being way too drunk was the reason why she was stumbling so much in the first place, but Clarke didn’t really care about that either. 

She released a heavy sigh, smelling sickly sweet and alcoholic, and wondered once again whether she should have told someone she was leaving the bar.  

But her friends were drinking to have fun, and Clarke was drinking because she couldn't remember what fun was supposed to feel like. At one point, she was convinced that she’d find the answer at the bottom of a shot glass—a theory she wholeheartedly indulged—but after the first five shots, she had to admit her mistake and took five more for being so goddamn wrong. 

And now, Clarke was walking—okay, _stumbling—_ her way home.

Or at least she was trying her damned best to do so when that familiar lurch seized her insides, accompanied by dry mouth and an uncomfortable heat prickling up her spine.  

Clarke rushed off the path as quickly as she could on her unsteady legs, dropping to her hands and knees on the grass just in time for the first heave.

Once much emptier, her stomach settled enough that Clarke was able to half-crawl, half-stagger to the nearest bench, where she rolled onto her back with a groan.

This was fine. 

She could just lay here in peace, letting the cool wooden surface seep through her nausea, until she felt well enough to continue her journey.

“Are you all right?” 

Or not. 

Clarke grudgingly dragged her hands off her face, directing her bleary eyes at the nosy passerby. 

High braided ponytail, gym shorts, neon colors.  

A late-night jogger.

Gross. 

“I'm fine,” Clarke grumbled, waving away the stranger. “Move along…” 

But the girl stayed put, her frown only deepening. “You’re drunk.” 

Clarke couldn’t resist a snort. “No shit. What was your first clue?” The snark came through loud and clear, even with her words slurring all over the place. So, when her hostility was met with no answer, Clarke figured she was thankfully alone again. 

Until she found herself face to face with a Nalgene water bottle.

"... Why?"

“It’s water. Take it. You need it more than I.”

“No thanks…”

“ _Take it,_ ” the girl instructed coldly. “You should have been alternating between glasses of water and alcohol throughout the night. Obviously, it’s much too late for that now… but this will help.”  

Incredible. 

Clarke didn’t realize anyone could sound so helpful yet condescending. She tried to focus on the object before her, the blurry image fluctuating between appearing as one and two bottle(s).

“Well, it can’t hurt, can it?”

“That sounds fake… but okay.” Clarke grunted as she went to sit up. But no go. “I can’t get up,” she whined.  

The girl held out her free hand, hauling Clarke up with a strong grip and a surprising amount of ease. When she released Clarke's hand to hold out the bottle once more, Clarke was struck with a sudden emptiness she hadn't been expecting. 

The warmth of the tactile contact had felt out of place in the darkness.

“Thanks…” Clarke gingerly took the bottle, which was now back to being just the one.

“Slowly!”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but took smaller sips to appease the stranger, even if only to spare herself from further reprimand. “All right. What now?” 

“Do you have your phone on you?” 

Clarke squinted at the girl suspiciously. “Are you making a pass at me? Because that’s tacky as hell, man. And also, I'm not really in a place where I feel ready to date anyone right now, so sorry. But not sorry.” 

The passive annoyance in the girl’s dark green eyes never wavered. “To contact your friends so they know where you are.”

“Oh.” Clarke laughed despite herself, pulling out her phone with a sheepish grin. “Unfortunately... my battery died, like, three blocks ago.” 

“Do you have any of your friends’ numbers memorized?”

“Pfft, _no._ Do  _you?”_

“Yes.” 

Clarke really should have seen that one coming…

“Look, it’s fine,” she said, trying to wave the girl away again. “It’s only another… like, half-mile to my place. I’ll be _fine._ ” 

“Which way?” 

“Are you _sure_ you’re not hitting on me? Because—” 

The girl spoke briskly, interrupting Clarke for the first time. “I just want to walk you home.”

“Uh, no need," Clarke said. "I know the way. Thanks though.” She pushed herself off the bench, but the nausea hit her at once, rendering her legs wobbly. The girl automatically reached out to steady Clarke, a firm hand wrapping around her upper arm.

“It’s late. You’re drunk. Vulnerable... And I'd rather not see your name featured in some grisly headline tomorrow.” 

“You don’t even know my name, dude.”

 A sharp jaw clench. Maybe Clarke was getting under the girl's skin after all.

“Let me just walk you home,” she repeated, tone only slightly strained. “It will take all of 20 minutes and we’ll never have to see each other again.” She stared Clarke down with impassive eyes. “You can barely walk…” she added, nodding down at her grip, still secured around Clarke’s arm.

Clarke let out a heavy sigh. “Ugh, _fine.”_ She let the girl take her arm and drape it over her shoulders. “But only if you tell me your name.”

After a couple of steps—Clarke still stumbling, the girl effortlessly supporting her weight—the stranger finally answered. 

“Lexa.”

//

“No, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was firm and disapproving when Clarke tried to hand back the water bottle. “You should keep drinking.”

“Well, that was the plan, but then I ran out of money and Polis never accepts _flashing_ as payment for some reason. Strictly cash or cred—”

“ _Water,_ ” Lexa pressed, her impatience never disrupting her careful, even strides. “Hydration is very important, Clarke. How much do you weigh?”

“Whoa, man. Etiquette 101! You’re never supposed to ask a woman about her weight! Were you raised in a _barn?”_

Lexa ignored her. Again.  

“You can calculate one’s recommended daily water intake by multiplying their weight by two-thirds.”

“But what color was the barn you were raised in?”

“So, a person weighing 130lbs should be drinking around 90oz of water everyday.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “Okay, first off, your guesstimate was way too close for comfort.” The corners of Lexa’s lips twitched. Or seemed to anyway. “And secondly, I never drank that much water in one _week_ even…”

“I highly doubt that, Clarke. The average person drinks at least 50oz of water a day.”

“That sounds fake, but okay.” 

“Why do you keep saying that?”  

Clarke laughed, which impaired her coordination even further, forcing Lexa to brace her weight with a grunt. “You’re weird…”

“As are you, Clarke.”

Lexa’s pronunciation was so precise that it was almost annoying. Did she really have to hit the _K_  at the end of Clarke's name that hard? Or even call her by name every other sentence?

But the girl was helping her home, and as much as Clarke didn't want to admit it, she probably wouldn’t have made it very far without this walking, talking sense of disapproval.

By the time they arrived at her apartment, Clarke’s vision had cleared up enough that she could tackle the stairs all on her own. Dropping a hasty _Thanks,_ she slipped out of Lexa's grip and onto the railing.

Lexa just nodded, steely eyes following Clarke up the stairs. 

“Good night, Clarke,” she said, once Clarke had made it safely to the front door. Then, she jogged off without another word, disappearing into the darkness. 

Clarke crumpled onto her bed with a soft gruntand had only a few minutes to ruminate on unforgiving green eyes before sleep overtook her.  

// 

Oh, fuck.

Clarke’s head was pounding and her feet dragged reluctantly, but she was late. So fucking late.  

Parking her car haphazardly outside the gym, Clarke rushed out with her duffel bag, desperately ignoring the nausea swimming up her body. By the time she got to the track, she saw that the rest of the Grounders were already 20 minutes into their morning run.

Oh, Clarke was so screwed.  

“Griffin!”

Yep. Epically screwed.  

“You’re late,” Indra said, in that stony tone Clarke had already grown accustomed to. 

Quickly stamping down on her knee-jerk sarcasm, Clarke tried to look as apologetic and not hungover as possible. “Sorry, Cap’n. Late start…”

Indra gave Clarke a once-over with bored eyes. “We're starting practice with eight laps around the track… but I think we can make time for you to do that twice over.”

Four miles on a hangover from hell.

Great.

“Great,” Clarke said, as breezily as she could. She dropped all her things and ran straight onto the track, pretending she couldn't hear the sharp reproach on the importance of warming up and stretching. It wasn't long before she caught up to a familiar pair of ponytails. "Yo, what the hell, O? Why didn't you wake me up before you left?"

Octavia shot her a guilty smile. “Well, I would have… but I actually didn't come home last night.” She shrugged as Danny let out a snigger. “And I tried to call you, but your phone went straight to voicemail.”

Having passed out as soon as she got home, Clarke didn't really get the chance to plug in her phone until right before sprinting out of the apartment this morning. So, there was a very slight chance that this could have been all her fault after all.

"You’re lucky the captain’s in a good mood today,” Danny added as she ran into Clarke's path.

"Is she?” Clarke asked in disbelief, shoving Danny back over. “She’s making me run twice as much you guys!”  

“Could have been more!” 

“I guess…” 

The girls fell silent as they ran by the bleachers where Indra was flipping through her clipboard with a nasty scowl. 

Octavia waited until they were out of earshot again. “But Danny’s right,” she said. “The Cap  _is_ in a good mood today, thanks to Wonder Girl over there.”

“Wonder Girl?”

Danny nodded back towards the benches. “New freshman recruit. She’s already done with her laps. Finished in under 15 minutes.”

“Seriously?”

Clarke didn’t look over until the track curved around again, squinting to make out the figure diligently stretching out her calves. 

High braided ponytail. Gym shorts. Neon colors. 

And water bottle in hand. 

... Lexa was Wonder Girl. 

Well, so much for never having to see each other again.

// 

Clarke collapsed onto the turf in a panting mass of sweat and regret. That last stretch had almost proved fatal for the poor girl, but at least she had finally completed her punishment laps.

Unfortunately for Clarke, the real practice hadn't even started yet.

On the other hand, her hangover didn’t feel so life-threatening anymore. Nope, now it was merely a monster of a headache hinting at death at only every _other_ breath. 

A sudden flash of cold struck the back of Clarke’s neck, producing a flinch and cry of surprise.

“Come on, Griffin,” Danny teased. She squirted even more water at the protesting blonde. “Rise and shine!”

Clarke groaned and held out her hands pathetically. Rolling their eyes, Danny and Octavia each took an outstretched hand and pulled their friend onto her feet.

“All right. Get some water,” Octavia said, clapping an encouraging hand on Clarke’s shoulder. 

“Eh, hang on. I forgot my bottle…” Ignoring Danny’s smug _Of course you did,_ Clarke dragged her feet to the nearest water fountain, conveniently located by Wonder Girl. She was still stretching by the bleachers, her impassive green eyes too busy surveying the field to spare Clarke a second glance. 

... Which was irritating.

Clarke stomped back, planting herself square in front of the girl where she knew she couldn’t be ignored.

“Remember me?” she demanded, after starting (and losing) a brief staring contest.

To Clarke’s great annoyance, Lexa didn't even bat an eye.

“Yes. You’re the one with my water bottle.”

“You’re the one who gave it to me!” Clarke shot back automatically.

The bottle in question was indeed still in Clarke’s possession, most likely under her bed and dripping onto the carpet because there was still plenty of water left inside. But it’s not like she _meant_ to steal the damn thing and judging from the new bottle in Lexa’s hand, Wonder Girl wasn’t exactly hurting from the loss either. 

“Look,” Clarke said, running a hand through her hair distractedly. “Obviously, I didn’t know I’d be seeing you here.” Or ever again for that matter. “But I can get the bottle to you next time, okay? Hell, I’ll even wash it for you.”

“No need,” Lexa said shortly. “Like I said, Clarke,” hitting that damn _K_ again, “you need it more than I. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She stepped around an incredulous Clarke to trudge over to the field.

Sputtering in disbelief, Clarke only managed to say, “I _have_ water bottles!”

“Perhaps one more will do the trick then,” Lexa said without turning around. “Also, you should consider tying back your hair.”

Clarke scowled, squinting at this obnoxious new development with derisive green eyes, until an angry cry of _Griffin!_ from her captain seized her attention. Shaking her head, Clarke picked up her lacrosse stick and ran over, vowing to keep her hair down all practice no matter what.

"You know Wonder Girl?" Octavia mumbled out of the corner of her mouth when Clarke caught up to the team again.

"It's a long story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy that? Leave a comment!
> 
> Did you hate it? Leave a comment!
> 
> Did you feel meh about it? Leave 10 comments!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at school and already behind because I can't stop writing this story.
> 
> Hahaha... ve to stop being like this, oh my goodness.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :D

“It’s not _funny,_ Laur!” But the violent bursts of laughter filtering through Clarke’s speakers said her best friend thought otherwise. So much in fact that Clarke was about _this_ close to cutting their Skype session short this week. “I almost _died,_ okay? Like, I was literally looking into funeral arrangements. I was making peace with my maker!”

“Your maker?” Laura echoed, wiping away tears—actual, honest to God, _tears—_ her giggles barely stifled. “So, you made up with Abby then?”

Clarke groaned. “Oh, no. Please don’t call her that.”

“What? But Raven does it all the time!” 

“Yeah, and I wish she wouldn’t…” Clarke punctuated her sigh with a sip of whiskey, lips curving into a small frown.

Laura raised her hands in submission. “All right, all right... So, you made up with your _mom_ yet?”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, inclining her head. “But, no _,_ I have _not_ made up with my mom yet. We actually haven’t talked since our fight the other night.” Her tone was light and casual, though her eyes were focused intently on the ice clinking around in her tumbler.

Laura’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, Clarke, I'm so sorry... Are you okay?” 

Clarke set her drink down with a scoff, waving her other hand dismissively. “Forget it. Let’s talk about something else…”

“You got it.” Laura thankfully perked right up again. “So, how was the rest of practice? You know, when you _weren’t_ running yourself ragged around the track like a poor little hungover, headless chicken…”

The giggles resurfaced once more—albeit somewhat more subdued—but they were still there, so Clarke went for the low blow.

“Well…” she said, drawing out the word playfully. “I _did_ see your girl, so…”

Laura began protesting right away. “Ugh. No. Stop. Gross.” She continued over Clarke’s triumphant sniggers, “Seriously! I _swear_ that I am _done_ with athletes, and after Danny, I’m especially done with lacrosse players. For good!” Then gesturing towards Clarke, she added, “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Please… As if you could ever land me.”

“Right,” Laura said, rolling her eyes. “Whatever, you’re all really rowdy and aggressive anyway.”

“Hey! That’s…” Clarke hesitated as she considered the claim,” … absolutely correct. God, what is wrong with us?” 

“You’re all just a bunch of glorified cave-ladies,” Laura joked before shaking her head with a heavy sigh. “And that’s _fine_ and all… but I really just wanna find, like, a nice quiet gal who stays in on the weekends and—oh, I don’t know— _reads_ or something…”

Clarke snorted. “Really, Laura? _Reads?”_ She chuckled softly, taking another sip of whiskey. “Well, like I said, the incoming freshmen are all extremely annoying, so you ain’t missing much anyway.”

“Phooey.” Laura frowned, her chin dropping into her palm. “When’s softball season?”

But before Clarke could mention how softball players were _still_ athletes, Octavia burst into the room with a squeal, “Is that Laura Hollis I hear?”  Clarke exhaled an  _oof!_ as her roommate jumped on her lap without warning, her arms wrapping tightly around Clarke's neck. 

“Hey, O! Long time, no see!” Laura exclaimed.

“Whatcha talking about?” Octavia asked. She smacked away Clarke’s hands when the blonde tried to push her off her lap. “Is Clarke-y here complaining about Wonder Girl again?”

“Who’s that?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “One of those freshman recruits I was telling you about…”

“Hah!” Octavia said with a gleeful grin. “So, you _have_ been discussing her!”

“Don’t you find her annoying though? Like, really, _really_ annoying?”

Octavia hummed as she tapped thoughtfully at her chin. “No, not really. I actually think she’s kinda hot.”

“ _What?”_ Laura and Clarke voiced simultaneously—Laura in delight, Clarke in disbelief.

“Yeah! You know how I really dig that whole strong, silent schtick… Don’t even get me started on Anya.”

Laura groaned in approval. “Oh my God, _yes!_ Those cheekbones though.”

“ _Right?”_

“But you don’t even like girls!” Clarke protested, giving her roommate another shove but to no avail.

“So? I have _eyes,_ don’t I?” Then Octavia shrugged. “Not that it matters, of course.”

“Well, why not?” Laura asked.

“Grounders aren’t allowed to date each other,” Clarke answered as she reached for her drink.

“Wait. Really?”

“Yup,” Clarke said, popping the _P._ “A couple of girls actually got booted from the team last year. Sucks to suck...”

Laura sank back into her chair with a low whistle. “Oh, wow. Serious business.”

“Yeah,” Octavia agreed. She drank from Clarke’s tumbler, conveniently avoiding her narrowed eyes. “But I was actually referring to how my eyes are currently set on someone else entirely…”

Clarke raised her drink beyond Octavia’s reach when she tried to take another sip. “You mean, Casual Sex Guy?”

“Lincoln!” Laura corrected enthusiastically. 

“Right. _Lincoln._ ” Octavia nodded at the computer screen. “Thank you, _Laura._ ”

“Wait a minute. Is hethe reason you didn’t come home last night?” Clarke demanded. 

Octavia tossed her head, making sure her hair whipped into Clarke’s face. “… Maybe.”

“Tell. Me. _Everything!”_ Laura said, her face getting closer to the screen with each word. 

Clarke promptly zoned out as her friends launched themselves headfirst into gossip city, and her mind eventually, inevitably drifted back to today's practice.

By the end of their very first drill, Clarke had already determined that she didn’t like any of the new players.

Sarah Jane didn’t take anything seriously, collapsing into uncontrollable fits of giggles at every other play. It was a wonder how she got on the team in the first place. There were a few theories being tossed around amongst some of the veteran Grounders, but the one thing everyone agreed on was that SJ would probably die by Indra’s hand before school even started.

Mel, on the other hand, was very passionate about the sport, taking every opportunity to prove her dedication. Of course, this often led to heated arguments with the other players—Clarke included— but she was a solid athlete and unwavering in her convictions. And so, it was no surprise to anyone when Danny approached her after practice to discuss Summer Society.

Then there was Lexa, a. k. a. Wonder Girl.

The most annoying thing about Lexa was that she was constantly over-achieving. She played the same position as Clarke—attacker—and she was damned good at it too. What’s worse, she _knew_ she was good at it, as evidenced by the pride reflected in her green eyes whenever she scored a goal. Or intercepted a pass. Or blocked an opponent. Or lapped Clarke on the track during their runs. 

That last one was especially infuriating… 

With a sudden jerk, Clarke touched her cheek, her hand coming away wet. “… Did you just _lick_ me?”

“You zoned out!” Octavia reasoned, as Laura burst into laughter again. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

"By _licking_ me?" Clarke rubbed at her face with a disgusted groan. “Why can’t you just punch me in the face like a normal person?”

“Aww…” Octavia cooed, gently caressing her roommate’s cheek. “I could never hurt this precious little face...” She scooted off Clarke’s lap as she checked her phone. “Anyway, I’m off to meet Danny and the others for ice cream. Wanna come with?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Clarke knocked back the rest of her whiskey before adding, “You know… One of these days, Danny’s gonna try to recruit you if you keep hanging out with the Summers.”

Octavia just shrugged and blew kisses at the two girls before frolicking out the door. 

“I should go too,” Laura said, yawning into her hands. “Same time next week?”

“Sounds good to me!”

“Cool, cool... Wait, one last thing before we hang up," Laura announced, hands raised. "I think you should give them another chance.”

“Huh?”

“The freshmen!” Laura said. “Give them another chance. First impressions can be very unfair sometimes, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Yours was pretty spot on.” Clarke laughed at her best friend’s unamused expression. “But I hear ya, Laur... I suppose not everyone can wear their hearts on their sleeves as well as you do."

“Exactly! Just keep that in mind, Clarke. And things will get better!”

// 

They didn’t. 

And Clarke made sure to text Laura, reminding her of that fact, every single time she recalled her useless advice.

//

“Fuck. Suicides.” Danny dropped heavily onto a bench, doubled over as she panted. 

“Goddammit,” Octavia wheezed between gulps of air. “Is there anything that girl  _isn’t_ perfect at?”

Fighting to catch her own breath, Clarke looked over at the girl in question. Lexa was standing by the bleachers, taking small sips of water and dabbing at her face with a towel. Even from afar, Clarke could tell she was barely winded.

Which was infuriating, sure… but lately, Clarke had taken to complaining less about so-called Wonder Girl because it felt too close to caring. And pettiness. And not even the funny, ironic internet-sanctioned kind. It was just straight up pettiness, plain and simple, which of course wouldn’t do.

Plus, Lexa never did anything that warranted real complaint. She was still as reserved and respectful as ever, only speaking when spoken to and always in a polite tone. There were still those green eyes—glinting regularly with just the slightest trace of arrogance—but that wasn’t something Clarke could readily explain either. 

So, she was done grumbling (out loud) for now while she had better things to save her breath for. As for example, not passing out cold after forty long minutes of running suicides across the field. 

“Fucking SJ… Had to fumble that one pass…” Danny complained bitterly. “And the entire fucking team had to suffer for it…”

“It’s meant to be a team effort, Lawrence,” Clarke said wearily from the ground. 

Octavia sidled up next to Danny on the bench. “Yeah, give her some time… Who knows? She just might surprise us. Or do you not remember what Clarke was like last year?”

Clarke glared up at her roommate, but she and Danny were too busy watching Lexa pack her stuff from across the field. 

“So, how does a newcomer get so cozy with the two best players on the team anyway?” Danny wondered out loud as they saw Indra and Anya approaching the girl.

“Well, Woods is a pretty strong athlete in her own right,” Octavia said with a half-shrug.

Danny shook her head slowly. “No… They’re definitely acquainted. Look! They’re laughing!” she hissed, pointing at the trio, but that was an exaggeration at best. If anything, Anya was the only one somewhat smiling while Indra was scowling and Lexa… Well, her face was expressionless, just like it was 95% of the time anyway.

But Clarke didn’t care, so…

“Hey,” she said, turning back to her friends. “Since we get to sleep in tomorrow for the first time in _ever,_ how’s about we go for a girls’ night out?”

Octavia looked up from her phone, perking up right away. “Drinks? Yes! Good idea! Let’s go to The Anglerfish!”

“The Anglerfish?” Clarke frowned at the thought of the dive bar located on the outskirts of town. “But then we’ll need a DD…”

“Please? Pretty please? Ladies drink half off tonight!”

“All right, but who’s gonna drive?” Danny asked. Then, she quickly touched her nose. “Not it.”

“Not it!” Octavia blurted, tapping her own nose as well.

“Wait, what? No, that’s not fair!” Clarke protested as she sat up. She shoved at Octavia’s knee. “ _You_ chose The Anglerfish, so _you_ should be the one driving!” 

“That’s not how the nose game works, Clarke,” Octavia sang, poking at her roommate’s shoulder playfully. 

Clarke swatted the offending hand away. “Nope, I won’t accept that,” she said, eyes narrowed dangerously. She yanked out a few blades of grass and arranged them in her grip. “We’re drawing straws and the shortest one drives, and that’s final.”

She fought off a grin as her friends grudgingly scooted closer to her outstretched fist. Amazingly enough, Clarke had succeeded in reducing her chances of driving from 100% down to a mere 33%. She mentally patted herself on the back for coming up with such an ingenious idea on the spot.

// 

“What a terrible fucking idea,” Clarke muttered, as they navigated through large throngs of people in various stages of inebriation.

Who knew that Octavia and Danny would be so good at picking out straws? Clarke sure didn’t, and as the loser of both games—and the orchestrator of the second—her fate was doubly sealed.

“Oh, hush… You love us,” Octavia insisted. She planted an extra loud kiss on her roommate’s cheek before dragging Danny over to the bar. 

After a customary glance around the room, Clarke managed to snag a recently vacated table by the bar, which was quite the find on such a crowded night. Mostly clean too, she noticed with a grin.

“Clarke-y? Whatcha getting?” Octavia called over her shoulder. 

“Jameson. On the rocks!”

Octavia rolled her eyes, but put in the order. 

As the designated driver, Clarke was allowed at most two drinks, as long as she had them at the start of the night. Of course, the drinks in question had to be paid for by the soon-to-be-sloshed—it was only fair—and if Clarke was limited to a two-drink cap, she sure as hell was going to make them count.

Clarke settled back in her seat as she perused the dark and seedy atmosphere, eyes peeled for potential entertainment. The crowd largely consisted of women—thanks to the half-priced drinks on ladies' night—but Clarke could hardly complain. She wasn't very picky, after all. But while  checking out a particularly leggy brunette, her eyes landed on possibly the one person that she did  _not_  want to see. 

“Here ya go!” Octavia said, setting Clarke’s drink on the table. She let out a yelp as Clarke yanked her arm just as she was about to take her seat.

“Lexa’s here!”

“What?”

“Lexa. Is. _Here._ ”

“Wha-a-at…” Octavia’s initial confusion gave way to a half-hearted surprise as she followed Clarke’s gaze.

Lexa was standing stiffly by a bar table, hand wrapped around a mostly full glass—of water, Clarke was assuming— as her eyes darted around the room. She was soon joined by an uncharacteristically smirking Anya and…

Clarke narrowed her eyes as she turned back to her roommate, taking in her weak smile.

“Did you purposefully pick The Anglerfish because you knew your boy-toy was going to be here?”

“ _Lincoln,_ ” Octavia corrected, annoyed. “And… maybe!”

Clarke nudged Danny, who was just arriving with an entire pitcher of beer in hand. “Did you know that Octavia dragged us all the way here just so she could get laid?”

“For real?” Danny held up a hand. “Nice!”

“No! Not nice!” Clarke said, blocking the high-five from landing. “Because I totally could have been five shots in at Polis, but instead we made this 30 minute drive all because O couldn’t keep her lady boner under control!”

Fingernails bit into Clarke’s wrist as Octavia grabbed her arm. “Stop it,” she whispered frantically. “You’re drawing attention!”

“So, what if I am? You didn’t come all this way just to _look..._ ”

“Clarke!”

But it was too late because they had finally been spotted and Lincoln was already making his way over.

“Hey,” he said, smiling wide.

“Hi. Lincoln…” Octavia returned, almost breathlessly. “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

Clarke rolled her eyes with a groan and Danny snickered behind her beer, but Lincoln's smile never wavered.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, jerking his thumb towards the bar. 

“She already _has_ a drink,” Clarke chimed in. “But I think she _is_ getting a bit hungry. Maybe some cheese fries?”

“For the table,” Danny added.

Octavia sneakily shot daggers at both of her friends behind her hand, but Lincoln remained unfazed.

“Sure,” he said, shrugging easily. “Cheese fries for the whole table. You got it.”

And with that, Lincoln jogged towards the bar, Octavia waving after him with a bright smile plastered on her face until he was out of earshot. 

“What the hell, guys?” she demanded, smacking at Clarke’s arm. “Seriously?”

“What? He offered!” Clarke said, rubbing gingerly at her shoulder.

“ _Cheese_ fries?”

“I _assumed_ it was an open invitation.”

Clarke had to fend off a couple of more blows before Lincoln returned, rendering Octavia giggly and heart-eyes all over again. Free from further harm for the moment, Clarke decided to take the opportunity to study her fellow Grounders a few tables over. But after a few uneventful moments, she determined that she wouldn't glean anything new even with this unconventional context.

Anya and Lexa were probably two of the most unknowable people in the entire…

Well, actually…

“Hey!” Clarke pulled Lincoln around, cutting him off mid-sentence. “How do you know Anya?”

Lincoln smoothed out his shirt, confusion knitted into his features. “Uh, we went to high school together?” 

“And Lexa?”

“She graduated later, but yeah, we're all from Trigeda Academy. Indra’s a graduate from there as well.”

“Trigeda Academy,” Danny murmured. “That’s that super exclusive private school in Washington DC, right?”

“That it is, indeed… _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim!”_ Lincoln said, with a small fist pump. Then registering the three identical blank expressions, he hastily explained, “It was our motto. One of our graduation requirements was to learn the school language.”

“I’m sorry. _School_ language?”

“Yeah. It was called Trigedasleng.”

Clarke snorted. “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ev—”

“Anyway!” Octavia quickly cut in with a pointed glare. “It’s so nice that you all kept in touch after high school, huh?”

“Private school though…” Clarke hummed, sipping at her whiskey. “That explains a _lot_ about a lot actually.”

Octavia tried to drown out the not-so-civil comments with fake laughter, but Lincoln’s laugh was genuine and easy. 

“Aw, she’s actually a pretty nice girl once you get to know her! Especially if you get a couple of drinks in her first.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow. “Are we talking about Anya or Lexa here?”

“Both?” Lincoln was still grinning, but even Octavia looked skeptical. Then, he whipped his head around at the sound of his name. “Looks like your food’s ready. Be right back!”

“Let me help you!” Octavia offered right away. She linked her arm with his as they walked off together.

“I like him,” Clarke finally admitted. 

Danny took a long drink from her pitcher. “You like _food._ ”

“True… But I think I like him too.”

However, that sentiment didn’t last very long because when Octavia and Lincoln returned to the table, they were accompanied by significantly less amicable people.

“Hi… guys…” Clarke said, while Danny gave a half-smile.

Lexa barely acknowledged the greeting, but Anya nodded in a somewhat friendly fashion. 

“Lincoln told us that there were a couple of Grounders in the vicinity,” Anya said, her tone even and deliberate. 

“And that there’d be food,” he added, setting down baskets of greasy hand-cut fries smothered in melted cheese. “Hope that was okay…”

Danny raised her pitcher slightly and Clarke just took another sip from her glass. An awkward pause followed as everyone eyed the fries, unwilling to take the first bite.

With a small sigh, Clarke downed the rest of her whiskey and clapped her hands. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I could sure use another drink…” She pointed at everyone in turn. “Shots? Shots? Yes?”

Enough people gave her half-nods, so Clarke gratefully slid out of the booth. She was almost at the bar when she noticed that she had a tail.

“Can I _help_ you?”

If Lexa was thrown by the barely muted hostility, she gave no indication of it. “I thought that you could use some help carrying the drinks back to the table.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You need to learn to accept help when you need it, Clarke.”

And there was that overly emphasized _K_ again. Clarke tried not to grit her teeth. 

“Whatever, man. Fine," she managed at last.

Once past all the drunkards and leaning against the bar, Clarke peered over the menu. “What do you think? Is it too early for tequila or…?” But the question was met with only a blank expression. “Ugh, why am I even asking you?” Clarke muttered to herself as she waved down a frazzled bartender. “Hi, yeah, could I get one, two… er, five tequila shots please?”

“Actually, I just want water,” Lexa said.

Of course, she did.

“Okay... Make that _four_ tequila shots and a water,” Clarke amended. Then after a moment of consideration and figuring what the hell, “And another Jameson on the rocks. Thank you!”

She glanced back at their table and was happy to see that it seemed slightly more comfortable. Or at least, slightly less _un-_ comfortable.

Yikes.

“I drove.”

Clarke tore her eyes away from the group to line them up with Lexa’s dark green ones. “Huh?”

Lexa was perfectly still, save for one finger tracing circles onto the bar’s surface. “I drove us here, which is why…” She trailed off, nodding to where the bartender was hurriedly fixing their shots. “I’m the designated driver.”

“Oh, word? Me too.” 

Clarke went for a fist-bump, but Lexa just stared at the outstretched fist, then again towards the shots being poured. A flash of judgement vanished from her eyes as quickly as it appeared.

“Oh,” she just said.

Clarke straightened up, her arms crossing automatically. _“... What?”_

Lexa mulled over her next words carefully, shoulders squaring up tense and tight. “I just think that’s incredibly irresponsible of you, Clarke.”

Clarke scoffed. “I can handle my liquor!”

“My first impression of you would say otherwise.”

“ _So_...?” Clarke found Laura’s advice unexpectedly spilling into her words, “Maybe you shouldn’t be making such snap judgements of other people, Lexa.”

A lull came over the two as Lexa cocked her head this way then that before she finally said, "Okay."

“Okay..?”

“Okay, I’ll consider a second impression.”

Clarke let out a laugh of disbelief. “Whatever, man,” she repeated, pushing at Lexa's shoulder. The girl swayed at the touch, letting herself rock back and forth once, her green eyes staring back into Clarke's not unkindly.

The bartender returned with a tray of the requested drinks. “That’s going to be 12 dollars,” they announced. Lexa handed over her credit card before Clarke could even start fishing for her wallet.

“What? You didn’t have to do that,” Clarke sputtered out, as the bartender rushed back to the cash register. “You’re not even drinking.”

Lexa shrugged. “But my friends are.” Then, she inclined her head towards Clarke. “And fellow teammates.”

Clarke scratched the back of her neck. “… Thanks.”

There was an unfamiliar curve to the corners of Lexa’s lips. “You’re welcome, Clarke.”

Octavia popped up by Clarke’s elbow, draping her arms around her neck heavily, and Lexa faced forward once more. “Hey, lovelies! Just here for some napkins…” She stuffed wads of cocktail napkins into her pockets as she explained, “So, Danny and Anya got into some weird pissing contest, and tried to sho—”

“Excuse me?” 

A deep voice broke into the conversation. Two guys were leaning over from their barstools, overly friendly smiles stretched across their faces. Of course. Because it wouldn’t be ladies’ night without a couple of _these_ hanging around. 

“Could I buy you a drink?”

Octavia smiled back politely. “Thank you, but we’re actually good on the drinks front.”

The guy leaned in closer, maintaining direct eye contact with Octavia. “Oh, come on. Just one drink! What could it hurt?”

“No thank you,” she said more firmly, turning her back to them.

“I’m not going to take ‘no’ for an answer,” he pressed, reaching out casually. Octavia jerked away when his hand landed on her shoulder. 

“Seriously, _no._ ”

Clarke wrapped a protective arm around her roommate’s waist, pulling her in close. “Come on, guy. She’s not interested. There’s plenty of other girls around, all right? So, move along, buddy.”

The smile slipped off the guy’s face, leaving a dirty scowl in its wake, but his friend nudged at his shoulder with an urging  _Come on._

“Whatever,” he muttered as he straightened back up. “Probably just a bunch of dykes anyway.”

A swirl of chaos erupted as barstools were upended and glasses smashed to the floor, and Lexa’s hands were fisted in the guy’s shirt.

“What the fuck? Let go!” He tried to throw Lexa’s hands off him, but she didn’t budge. 

By now, more people had noticed the commotion, and Anya and Lincoln were pushing their way through the rapidly forming crowd.

But Clarke was closer.

“Hey there... killer…” she started uncertainly. She brushed her hand over Lexa's clenched fists. “How’s about we let this guy go, hmm?”

Lexa didn’t seem to hear the suggestion, her teeth bared, her hands trembling slightly underneath Clarke's touch, and green eyes hardened into a steely gaze.

“ _Lexa,_ ” Clarke tried again, this time squeezing Lexa’s hands in hers.

The dangerous glint in Lexa’s eyes dulled as she slowly blinked, her shoulders beginning to relax, and when Clarke tugged gently at her hands, Lexa released the guy's shirt without any resistance.

“God- _dammit,_ ” he snarled, once out of swinging range. He pulled at his collar, fixing his shirt as he stomped away. 

Finally through the last of the crowd, Lincoln ran up to them and demanded, “Are you all right? What happened?”

Clarke felt Lexa go rigid once more and realized that she was still holding onto her hand. She quickly dropped it and took a step back as Lincoln stepped even closer.

"Lexa?"

“ _Nothing_ happened,” Lexa spit out before storming off.

Clarke was chasing after the girl before she knew it. "Nothing?" she echoed, following Lexa out a side exit. The cool night air struck her skin as they stepped out into the alleyway. "You were about ready to go toe to toe with some guy _twice_ your size. How is that _noth_ —"

Lexa whirled around without warning and Clarke almost collided into her. “You’ve never seen me _fight,_ ” she hissed.

“No, but I saw him knock down three men in the time it took the first one to hit the ground,” Clarke said dryly. “He’s a _football_ player.”

Recognition flickered in Lexa's eyes. “Like Finn.”

“Yeah, like Finn,” Clarke agreed with a sigh. Then, she frowned. “Wait, how do you know about Finn?”

“You've told me about him.”

“What? When?”

“That night, I…” Lexa paused, looking down at her hand clenching at nothing. “When I formed my first impression of you.”

Clarke brushed a hand through her blonde hair with a groan. “You’re _kidding_ me... Fuck, I don’t even remember doing that…” She sifted through her muddled memories, but came up empty-handed. “ _Fuck._ That’s so embarrassing.”

Lexa’s expression didn’t betray whether she agreed with Clarke, but she eventually asked in a softer voice, “Was that football player back at the bar a friend of Finn’s?”

“Eh. They’re close-ish, I guess.”

“Then, you should have let me punch him in the face.”

An unexpected bark of laughter escaped out of the blonde. “Lexa! You can’t just go around _punching_ people, who are you?”

Lexa shrugged. “A fight is a fight.”

“Yes, but that would have been a _bar_ fight," Clarke said, shaking her head. "Would you  _really_ throw away what is no doubt going to be a very bright future on a lowlife like that?” She flashed Lexa a smirk. “Come on, Lex... What would your parents think?” 

Right away, Clarke knew that she had said something wrong because all trace of Lexa's amusement vanished with a flinch. Lexa straightened up, the tension returning to her shoulders in full force, her green eyes alert but detached once more.  But before Clarke could even consider how to backtrack, the side door was creaking open and Anya's head poked out. 

“Hey, kiddo... You done being such a drama queen or what?”

Lexa's features tightened into a grimace. “He _said_ —”

Anya waved her hand dismissively. “I know what he said—Blake filled me in—but that asshole won’t be bothering us anymore. I had a little talk with the owner and got him banned for life… Gustus is an old friend,” she explained to Clarke before turning back to Lexa. She pushed the door open wider. “Come on, Woods. Let’s get you a drink.”

“But I’m driving…”

“Forget that. _I’ll_ drive. That little stunt you pulled in there sobered me right the fuck up, okay? So, come on.”

Lexa shuffled her feet. “I suppose one drink couldn’t hurt…”

“Atta girl,” Anya crowed, disappearing back into the bar. 

Lexa caught the door before it could slam shut, stepping back and propping it open with a firm hand. Her eyes met Clarke’s in silence and askance. 

“All right, all right, I’m coming,” Clarke said, trudging back inside.

When she peeked over her shoulder, she saw Lexa still paused in the doorway, head turned up towards the night sky, and for a brief moment, she was just a girl—soft edges and young.

Maybe Laura’s advice had some merit to it after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading (:
> 
> Please let me know what you loved, hated, and/or didn't care for in the comments! Any and all attention is my drug of choice.
> 
> Or come yell at me on [tumblr](http://whythinktoomuch.tumblr.com/ask) because I find that just as kinky (;


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I reread chapter 3 the other day and was horrified at how bad it was... so I ended up rewriting it and somehow ended up with 1000 more words, lol.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Home, sweet home!” Clarke announced as the front door swung wide open. Laura followed her into the apartment, wide-eyed and smiling tirelessly despite her late night flight, her suitcase trailing after her. “So, what do you think?”

Laura set her suitcase against a wall as she inspected the tidy living room, clearly lived in but loved all the same. She flopped into a cushy armchair in the corner and sighed contentedly. “Well… It’s certainly an improvement since the summer, I’ll give you that.”

“Oh, shut up.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “It’s clean! _Ish_ … Well, I tried anyway.”

“No, I like it!” Laura insisted. Her eyes roamed over the decorations—Clarke’s past painting assignments hanging on the walls, Octavia’s Christmas lights wrapped around every curtain. “You really made it your own, and since I love you and O with all of my gay heart, I love this place too.”

Clarke laughed as she retrieved two beers from the fridge, handing a bottle to a very appreciative Laura. “Nice try, girl. You’re still sleeping on the couch.”

“I can sleep anywhere as long as I have my yellow pillow! Which I still can't believe I left behind over the summer.” Laura shook her head, taking a drink from her bottle. “Speaking of, where is my stuff anyway?”

“Some of it’s in my room. Some in O’s.” Clarke gestured aimlessly as she spoke. “Some of it’s behind _this_ actually,” she added, kicking at Laura’s seat. 

Then, Octavia skidded into the living room, nearly crashing into her roommate in her haste. “Laura!” And that was all the warning Laura got before Octavia launched into her headfirst and squealing. 

“Easy, easy!” Clarke said sharply, stealing Laura’s beer before it could spill all over their ( _landlord’s_ ) armchair. “I don’t know about you, but I intend on getting back every cent of our security deposit _and_ living here again next year…” 

“Sorry. No traction on these babies.” Octavia raised her socked feet to demonstrate. “And I missed _my_ baby, so…” She planted a kiss on Laura’s cheek before shifting into a position that didn’t impede her friend’s breathing quite as much. “How was your flight?”

Laura shrugged as Clarke handed her drink over again. “Spent an hour and half debating whether it was worth it to try to sleep for an hour and half. Then, I nearly clocked some jerk who thought he could push past me once we’ve landed.” She took a sip from her beer. “So, same old, same old.”

“Wow…” Octavia said shortly, eyes glued to her phone. 

“What— _Dude._  You’re the one who asked!” Laura protested, giving Octavia a shove that was also ignored. She shot Clarke an incredulous look.

“Don’t,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes. “She’s on that thing 24/7 these days… Frankly, I’m surprised she even left her room to greet you.”

“Glad I’m worth that much at least,” Laura said with a snort. “You have practice in the morning?” 

Clarke groaned. “When do we _not_ though? We’ll be up and at ‘em around 8, but we’ll be quiet so you can sleep in.”

Octavia raised a finger. “Actually, I _won’t_ be…” With one last tap on the screen, she finally looked up from her phone. “I’m gonna stay at Lincoln’s place tonight, so Laura, you can take my bed.”

“Really? Thanks, O!” Laura said over Clarke’s exasperated _Again!?,_ “So, when am I meeting this illustrious suitor of yours anyway? Because it kinda sounds like things are getting serious.” 

Octavia shrugged coyly, but Clarke just guffawed. 

“How can you call _anything_ from the honeymoon phase _serious?”_

“Clarke’s just mad ‘cause she hasn’t gotten any in a while,” Octavia confided in Laura in a stage whisper, earning herself a cushion to the face. 

Laura tried not to laugh or agree to noticeably as she drank her beer.

//

In the midst of lockers slamming and voices clamoring to confirm plans for the evening, Clarke was trying to pack her gym bag. As Octavia had helpfully (disgustedly) pointed out, she had some articles of clothing in her locker that were definitely _way_ too sweaty to stay mold-free over the weekend. But Clarke was starting to realize that she might have amassed a lot more dirty laundry than she had thought.

“Hey!” Danny said, sliding in between her and Octavia. “So, the girls and I were thinking about doing karaoke night at Polis. You up for another drunken rendition _I Will Survive,_ or naw?”

Clarke looked up from a pair of alarmingly yellowed socks. “Are these salvageable?” Danny predictably shook her head frantically, so Clarke tossed the socks back into her locker—an obstacle for a later date. “Okay, firstly, I want you to promise to never mention that night ever again. And secondly, O and I are actually busy today. We’re helping Laura move into her dorm room.”

At the mention of her most recent ex, Danny’s smile dimmed a little. “All right, good luck with that,” she said shortly, giving Octavia a light punch to the shoulder as she walked away. Octavia just hummed and mumbled some sort of affirmative, gaze still focused intently on her phone. 

Clarke had deemed three more articles of clothing as unsalvageable before Octavia finally looked up. 

“Do you think Laura would mind if I invited Lincoln?” she asked. “To help her move in, I mean.”

“That depends,” Clarke said, grunting angrily as the last of her shorts refused to fit inside her bag. “Are you actually going to help? Or make out the whole time?”

Octavia scoffed, flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder. “Lincoln would never do that.”

“Wasn’t him I was worried about,” Clarke muttered. She started folding her clothes into shapes more conducive to laundry Tetris. “But do it. We can get him to carry some of the heavier stuff. Plus, I’m sure Laura would love to meet him.”

Eyes beaming, Octavia turned back to her phone and tapped away in excitement. 

Satisfied that her gym bag now looked an appropriate amount of bulky, Clarke leaned against her locker and shot a cursory glance around the room. Her eyes met up with Lexa’s almost accidentally. After a beat, the girl offered her a half-wave, and Clarke felt her stomach clench very slightly (but noticeably) as she returned the gesture.

Ever since their impromptu bonding session outside The Anglerfish, Clarke and Lexa were on somewhat friendlier terms. Started from resentful looks across the field… and now they’re here. Complete with polite Hellos and casual waves.

But it was a development Clarke appreciated more than she cared to admit. 

“Hey,” she said, turning back to Octavia. “How do you feel about asking some of the other Grounders? We could always use extra hands, and it might even defuse some of that raw sexual energy radiating off you and your boy.”

Octavia rolled her eyes without missing a beat on her phone. “Whatever. Ask Laura.”

 

**Clarke [3:42 PM]  
** Might ask some of the grounders to come help us with the move

**Clarke [3:42 PM]  
** Is that okay?

 **Bestie4Lyfe [3:42 PM]  
** NOT. DANNY.

**Clarke [3:43 PM]  
** … :P

**Clarke [3:43 PM]  
** Too late. She’s already on her way and will be there before us.

**Bestie4Lyfe [3:44 PM]  
** OMG YOU BETTER BE KIDDING

**Bestie4Lyfe [3:44 PM]  
** I S2G I WILL LITERALLY BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN

**Bestie4Lyfe [3:44 PM]  
** YOU WILL COME HOME TO ASHES CLARKE

 

Snorting to herself, Clarke held out her phone for Octavia’s perusal. 

“Drama llama…” Octavia finally put down her own phone, glancing up at Lexa as she walked by. “Hey, Lexa!” she called out, giving the girl pause. “Wanna help a friend of ours move in?”

Clarke held her breath without meaning to as Lexa slowly turned around.

“Sorry?”

“Move in!” Octavia repeated before quickly explaining, “Our friend stored a bunch of shit at our apartment over the summer, so now we gotta get everything back onto campus for the school year.” She shouldered her bag, dropping Lexa a bright smile. “Whaddaya say?”

Lexa hesitated, her brow furrowed, index finger tapping on her water bottle.

“What, you had something better to do tonight?” Clarke quipped. She swung her locker shut and fixed Lexa with a competitive eyebrow raise. “Come on, Lex. We can see who carries more boxes out to the car.”

She didn’t fail to notice the quiet challenge bristling in the clear green eyes. 

//

In the end, it turned out that there wasn’t all that much to compete over in the first place. 

Clarke stepped out her car, eyes narrowing at the boxes stacked neatly by the driveway. “How…?”

Her question was met with a prompt answer as Laura and Lincoln emerged from the apartment together, each cradling a cardboard box, immersed in a lively conversation.

“Baby!” Octavia exclaimed. “You got here before us?”

Lincoln shrugged as best he could with the large box in his arms. “I was closer and figured we might as well get started as soon as possible.” He nodded towards Laura. “Plus, L.H. here can more than hold her own, so it was no trouble at all!”

Laura giggled, bumping into Lincoln playfully. “I barely had to do anything! I think I carried, like, _one_ lamp or something…”

A second car pulled up next to Clarke’s—a shiny, sleek white sedan—coming to a smooth stop on the gravel.

“Sorry, guys!” Clarke called out. “Looks like we’ll have to do less work than I thought.” 

“Oh, darn. I was promised a full day of physical labor,” Harper joked as she climbed out of the car. “But somehow I’ll manage.” 

Lexa emerged from the driver’s seat, hands folding neatly in front of her. Clarke nudged at her shoulder with a grin.

“Hey, you find the place okay?”

“I remembered the way,” Lexa answered, giving the apartment a passive once-over. “It looks different in the sun.” Clarke just shook her head and gave the girl another playful shove.

“Okay, let’s not get too comfy!” Octavia said, immediately securing everyone’s attention. “We still have to get all this stuff _to_ Laura’s dorm.” Then she walked up to Lincoln, nonchalantly placing a hand on his prominent chest. “Oh, and by the way, this is Lincoln.”

“Oh, right! Introductions…” Clarke gestured towards Laura with a dramatic flourish. “Guys, this is Laura—best friend and resident pain in the ass, whose stuff we’ll be manhandling today…” Then, indicating to the two Grounders behind her in turn, she said, “And Laura, this is Harper and Lexa.”

Harper flashed a smile, Lexa gave a small nod, and Laura didn’t say anything.

She cleared her throat a little and opened her mouth, but no words actually passed her lips. Instead, she floundered, ducking her head, a hand absentmindedly tucking her honey-blonde hair behind her ear. Then, just on the brink of violating conversation etiquette, she managed to get out, “It’s nice to meet you,” in an overly bright voice, her gaze focused intently somewhere between the two people she was addressing.

Octavia and Lincoln were too busy exchanging kisses and terms of endearment to notice, and Harper and Lexa didn’t really know Laura. But Clarke did. On both counts. 

Though Laura probably didn’t even realize what she was doing, Clarke had seen her perform this exact same routine enough times to recognize the significance. So, later on, when she caught Laura’s furtive glances, the way her eyes lingered almost casually on Lexa, it only confirmed what Clarke already knew.

//

The car was barely in motion when Clarke felt firm fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“Clarke…”

“Yes, Laura?” Clarke said, refusing to look away from the back window. She normally would have taken less care when pulling out of the driveway, but a bright pink laundry bag filled with flannels obscured half her view, demanding her full undivided attention.

“We need to talk.”

But maybe Clarke’s attention was never meant to be _fully_ undivided…

“We _are_ talking, Laur,” Clarke said. Once the car was safely on the street and in drive, she felt comfortable enough to turn on her music, but Laura promptly switched it back off. Clarke let out a helpless sigh, “All right, what’s up?”

“I need you to introduce me to Lexa,” Laura blurted out. 

“I thought I just did. Like, two seconds ago. You were _there,_ remember?”

Laura groaned. “No… Like, _actually_ introduce us.” She leaned over to the sideview mirror, trying to sneak a peek at the girl driving behind them. “I want to go to there, Clarke… You have to help me get to there!”

Clarke shrugged, her grip tightening on the steering wheel, a little annoyed though she had no real reason to be. 

Well, none that she could readily identify anyway.

“I thought you were done with athletes…?”

Laura waved away the preposterous notion with a slight scoff. “Oh, please. Did you really think I’d stick to that?”

“Well, I thought you’d at least a little harder…” Clarke said dryly. She had to consciously remind herself to not grind her teeth, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to humor Laura. “I don’t even know if Lexa likes girls,” she added. 

But that was half a lie. Given her extreme reaction in the face of blatant homophobia, it was likely that Lexa had at least  _some_ inclination towards the same gender. 

Or maybe she had a queer cousin she was really close to or something. 

(Who knows? Clarke sure didn't!)

Laura snorted. “No, she's definitely a gay.”

“ _A ‘gay’?”_ Clarke laughed despite herself. “Jesus, Laur… But problematic wording aside, how can you even know?”

“A girl just knows these things,” Laura murmured softly. Her leg bounced a couple of times as she stared into the sideview mirror. “… Wait!” she cried suddenly as she sat up. “The party tomorrow night! At the Zeta house!”

“What about it?”

“Do you think she’s going to be there?”

“Maybe?” Clarke shrugged again. “Lexa doesn’t really strike me as a party girl, tbh.”

“… Could you make sure she comes?”

Clarke exhaled a heavy sigh. “ _Yes._ If you let me listen to my music in peace for the next fifteen minutes, I’ll get her to come to the stupid party…”

Stifling a small squeal, Laura happily zippered her mouth shut and turned the music back on. She sat in an animated silence for the rest of the car ride, which did nothing to keep Clarke’s mind from wandering. 

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, nodding along to the music, but her favorite Modest Mouse album wasn’t lifting her spirits like it usually did. After a few songs, Clarke glanced up at the rearview mirror to make sure no one had gotten lost yet. But Laura’s pink bag was still in the way, inconveniently blocking her view of the cars behind her. 

//

A distinct rattling sound caught Clarke by surprise on her drive back to the apartment. She waited, hoping for it to die down or prove imaginary, but the noise persisted in droning on and off—the pattern steadily driving Clarke crazy.

When the sound resumed after yet another brief lull, Clarke swore to herself and sharply pulled in by the curb without warning. An angry driver slowed down to honk and scream incoherently about her failure to signal before zooming off, Clarke waving after the car dismissively. 

Whatever.

She figured that nothing could possibly aggravate her already inexplicable rotten mood, but upon discovering the source of her troubles, Clarke realized that the universe was positively testing that theory to the very fullest.

A fucking cellphone. Vibrating on the floor.

Well, it couldn’t be Octavia’s. She’d have to let go of the damn thing every once in a while before she could actually lose it. And it wasn’t Laura’s either because the phone case was plain and boring and Tardis-free. 

Which meant that somebody _else_ must have dropped it while retrieving some of Laura’s stuff from the backseat.

Which meant even _more_ social interaction before Clarke could collapse into her bed and nap for five hours straight.

With an exasperated sigh, she tapped the screen on. No prompts for an unlock code or password. A generic background that had almost certainly come with the phone’s default settings… And seven missed calls from _Mother._

Mother?

Who even called their mother, _Mother,_ anymore anyway?

… Or set contacts almost exclusively as a first initial and last name?

Clarke scrolled through the contacts a few more times before calling the one name she recognized: _A. Lachman._ At the very least, she could determine whose phone it was, though she was starting to get an inkling…

Anya picked up after two rings. “What.”

“… Hey!”

“You’re not Lexa.”

“Nope! I am not. It’s, uh, me… Clarke.”

“Griffin.” Clarke nodded to confirm even though Anya definitely couldn’t see her. “Why are you calling me from Lexa’s phone?”

“Well, I found it in my car and figured you could help me get it back to its rightful owner. Which incidentally is Lexa.”

A noncommittal grunt. “Lexa hardly uses her phone anyway. I think she’d be all right for the weekend. Just return it to her on Monday.”

“Oh, sure. Can do… that…” Clarke trailed off, chewing on her lip. “But...”

“What.”

“Could you just let her know that her mom called? I don’t know _how,_ what with the whole no-phone situation, but may—”

“Her mom called?”

“Uh, yeah. A few times actually. Why?”

“If I give you Lexa’s address, could you get the phone back to her today?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“Good. Get it done, Griffin.”

//

The neighborhood Clarke was driving through looked way nicer than what most students could probably afford. But her GPS was insistent, so she parked outside a row of identical townhouses. 

The address Anya gave her was located a few minutes outside of Silas, which was strange in itself. It wasn't even three miles from the university, but a freshman living off campus was unheard of. Let alone one living in a whole other _town._

Surely, it was against school policy. Or something.

Clarke was about to drop Anya another call and get the _correct_  address—preferably one that wasn'tin a suburban hell-scape—when she noticed a flash of neon yellow outside the supposed residence in question.

Lexa.

Or her lower half anyway… The rest seemed tucked away into the bushes.

After a couple of slow blinks to confirm that it was indeed _Lexa’s_ shorts she was staring at, Clarke pushed on her car horn.

Lexa snapped back from the bushes in alarm. Then, confusion. “Clarke? What are you doing here?”

Clarke waved the phone in the air. “You left this in my car.”

“Oh. Thank you.” But Lexa made no move to get up or approach the car, her attention intermittently drifting back towards the bushes. 

“So…” Clarke drew out the syllable, leaning lazily on her window. “Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing,” Lexa said hastily. 

A bit _too_ hastily.

Rolling her eyes, Clarke shut off the ignition and jumped out of the car. “It’s clearly not _nothing,_ Lexa. What happened to ‘You need to learn to accept help when you need it’?”

Lexa’s brow furrowed, but she relented at last, “There’s a cat.”

“A cat,” Clarke echoed.

“Yes. It’s stuck in the bushes and I’ve been trying to get it free, but I can’t get close enough.” Lexa grimly raised her hands, displaying several angry red lines etched into her skin.

“Holy shit… Okay.” Clarke brushed back her hair as she quickly assessed the situation. “First thing’s first, we’re getting that cat out. Then, you’re letting me take a look at your hands.”

“They’re fine,” Lexa said brusquely, fisting her hands at her side.

“Oh, shut up, Lexa,” Clarke griped as she dropped to her knees next to the girl. She slowly peeked into the bushes and came face to face with a small black cat. It stared back at her, teeth bared, ears flattened against its skull, back legs caught in the brambles. “So, what was your plan? Drag the poor thing out, kicking and screaming?”

Lexa’s lips were set in a defiant line. “It would have worked eventually.”

“Oh my God, you can’t just _grab_ at an animal, Lexa. It’s _scared,”_ Clarke insisted, gesturing at the hissing critter in question. “Okay, can you go get me scissors? Or anything sharp?”

“… Why?”

“ _Why…_?” Clarke scoffed. “You really think that _that_ cat will let us get anywhere near it without clawing us to shreds?” Then, she looked back down at Lexa’s hand, the blood seeping out of one particularly deep scratch. “Well, obviously, you _did_ think that.”

Lexa didn’t comment, but her disgruntled silence spoke volumes. Clarke bit down on her laughter and beckoned Lexa closer with her hand.

“Look. I was going to cut these ones right here,” she said, pointing at the brambles as she spoke, “so it’ll help loosen the ones back _there…_ They’re all connected, see?”

There was a pause as Lexa studied the areas Clarke had indicated, carefully evaluating her plan. Then with a curt nod, she placed a small hunting knife into Clarke’s hand.

Clarke took a double-take. “Wha—Where did you even…” She stopped herself, just shaking her head. “You know what, never mind. I don’t even care.”

She crawled back into the bushes, knife in hand, and distracted the cat with soft coos and words of encouragement while she made short work of the brambles. Then she backed out with a triumphant cry just as the cat was shooting out in a streak of black.

It proceeded to run across the lawn, stopping only when it realized that nothing was chasing after it. Satisfied with the surroundings, the cat began to groom itself, patting down where the brambles had tousled the fur. 

Mission accomplished.

Clarke brushed off her pants as she stood. “All right. Time to treat your scratches.”

“Really, they’re fine…”

“You need to learn to accept help when you need it, Lexa!” 

Lexa groaned—she actually _groaned—_ in frustration. “ _Fine…_ But I don’t want any bandages,” she mumbled, and Clarke was struck with the unexpected reminder that Lexa was still just a girl.

(A _freshman_ girl, who was in fact a year younger than Clarke.)

“We’ll see about that,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes. “Let me grab my stuff and I’ll meet you inside.”

After washing up with warm water and Clarke’s antibacterial soap, they settled on the couch together, Lexa obediently presenting her hands palms up before Clarke could even ask.

With a wry smile, she took one of Lexa’s hands in hers, applying hydrogen peroxide to the tiny scratches on her knuckles.

“Why do you have that on you?” Lexa asked, nodding at Clarke’s travel-sized first aid kit. 

“Why do _you_ have a knife on you?”

“It’s useful, Clarke. As you yourself demonstrated not too long ago.”

Clarke hummed. “So, you gonna make it a habit of saving small animals then?” But Lexa was waiting with expectant eyes, so she continued with a sigh, “My mom’s a doctor—well, a surgeon actually—and she tried to pass the whole medicine thing onto me for a while… It didn’t work out. But some habits die hard, I guess.” She shrugged, gesturing for the other hand. “Or not at all.”

One of the cuts on Lexa’s palm was still bleeding, so Clarke examined it a bit more closely. Lexa let out a soft grunt at the first touch of cotton to skin, waving dismissively with her other hand when Clarke froze at the noise.

“Sorry,” Clarke said with an apologetic smile, proceeding to clean the wound more gently. “Cat got you good, huh?”

“Luna.”

“… Luna?” Clarke glanced up and noticed a slight pink coloring the tips of Lexa’s ears.

“It’s just… It’s what I’ve been calling the cat in my head,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh, silly me,” Clarke said, grinning. “And here I was, just thinking of it as ‘Random Stray Kitty’…” Then she paused her task with a sudden realization, “Oh! _Luna…_ Because it’s a black cat!”

The corners of Lexa’s lips twitched into a smile as she nodded. “Yes, just like the night sky contrasting with the moon.”

Clarke paused again, head tilting up in confusion. “… Black, as in _night-time_ black? So, nothing to do with the black cat from the show…?

“What show?”

… Right.

Of course, Lexa wouldn’t be familiar with anything as low-brow as a popular animated TV series from the 90s. Girl probably came out of the womb reading _War and Peace_ and politely ordering tea.

“Never mind,” Clarke said, shaking her head. She pressed a gauze into Lexa’s palm. “I’d give you a bandaid, but they have a tendency to unstick from palms, so… yeah. The good news is that the bleeding’s already slowing down, so you’ll only have to keep the pressure on for a little while.” She rolled her eyes at Lexa’s blank expression. “You can trust me. I’m a doctor’s daughter, remember?”

“All right. Thank you, Clarke.” Lexa inclined her head, then added after a pause, “I’m glad you came…”

“Me too,” Clarke said before she could stop herself. Averting her gaze, Clarke looked down at their hands resting on top of each other and quickly drew hers away. “Uh, you can probably do that on your own…” she said, pointing lamely at the gauze.

Lexa smiled as she nodded again, and Clarke had to look away.

She looked away because, God... Lexa really was _just_ a girl.

Her normally high braided ponytail was undone, the dark brown tumbling over one shoulder. She was leaning back against the armrest, her body composed but visibly relaxed. And there were tiny little cuts _all_ over her hands, which proved that she wasn’t some sort of automaton, incapable of making mistakes. 

Lexa was just a girl.

And she was smiling…

“Here!” Clarke yanked Lexa’s phone out of her pocket. “This is why I’m here,” she said firmly, reminding herself as much as Lexa. “Your mom called and it was vibrating, so I figured I should get this back to you ASAP as possible.”

The mood immediately dipped and Lexa straightened into a posture Clarke was more familiar (and at the moment, more comfortable) with. “Mother called?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Yup. She did. A few times, in fact. So, _here._ ” The phone hovered as Clarke tried to return it without actually touching Lexa. She eventually just dropped it onto her lap.

“Thank you…” Lexa said again, but the words fell out wooden and stiff. “If you’ll excuse me, Clarke, I should return her calls right away.”

Clarke scrambled to her feet. “No problem! I’m going to leave. Right now.”

She was almost through the front door when the other godforsaken reason she was there stopped her cold. Hands squeezing around the doorframe, Clarke grudgingly stepped back into the room. 

“Hey, Lexa?”

She looked up from her phone, eyebrows raised.

“There’s a party at the Zeta house this weekend. You should come.”

Lexa blinked. “You’re… inviting me to the party?”

“Well, it’s an open invite,” Clarke explained matter-of-factly. “So, technically, everyone’s invited.”

“Will you be there?”

Clarke’s eyes, which had been flicking aimlessly around the room, snapped back to Lexa’s sharp green ones. “Uh, yeah,” she said slowly. “Everyone will be there, so… I will be there too.”

“Okay. I’ll come,” Lexa said, pressing her phone to her ear. “Goodbye, Clarke. Thank you again.”

With one last wave, Clarke rushed back to the safety of her car where she was allowed to contemplate what kind of green shined in Lexa’s eyes when she was smiling. 

//

“God. She looks… so uncomfortable.” Octavia giggled behind her drink.

Lexa and Anya had arrived at the party hours after the first keg stand, and thus the festivities were already in full swing and halfway to hell by the time they got there. Anya seemed happy enough, chatting away with Lexa and some other people as they stopped by. But Lexa was just standing off to the side, shoulders stiff and tightly wound, an untouched red solo cup by her hand.

But at least she was here…

“Wait, so which one’s Laura’s latest love interest again?” Raven demanded, squinting over at the pair. “Blonde and intimidating? Or dark and mysterious?”

“Dark and mysterious,” Laura answered automatically. She took a sip from her cup to calm her nerves and immediately gagged at the overwhelming taste of vodka. “Oh, _God…_ This is awful!”

Lafontaine lightly thumped on Laura’s back as she coughed. “I _told_ you not to let Raven mix your drink…”

“Hey,” Raven protested, “I _did_ warn you that the getting-screwed-driver wasn’t for the faint of liver, okay?” She was of course referring to her speciality cocktail, which consisted of ten parts vodka and zero parts orange juice, save for one measly drop. “Go big! _And_ go home! _With_ Dark-And-Mysterious!”

“I’m trying!” Laura said with a laugh. “Well, not really for _that,_ per se… But I need Blonde-And-Intimidating to leave, so I can casually strike up a conversation with Dark-An—with _Lexa_ …”

“Uh huh,” Octavia said skeptically. “And how are you planning on pulling _that_ off? As if Anya would ever leave Lexa unattended again…” She bumped shoulders with Clarke. “Right? Remember The Anglerfish?” Clarke just nodded, taking a long drink from her very own getting-screwed-driver. Octavia cocked her head. “Hey, you—”

“Rae!” Lafontaine barked out, startling everyone but the one person they were addressing. “You’ve been on campus for less than 24 hours! _Please_ don’t tell me you’ve already devised a plan to get us all in trouble.”

“Relax…” Raven said, reaching out to tousle Laf’s hair affectionately. “No trouble at all! Well… not for _me_ anyway…” She seized a random Zeta brother by the shirt as he bobbed by. “Yo!”

“Yo,” the guy echoed. He held up a wobbly peace sign. “Wazzup?” If his unfocused bleary eyes and lopsided grin weren’t proof enough, the sloppy gait made it absolutely clear that the guy was obliterated.

The entire group watched curiously as Raven handed over her mostly full cup of whiskey and coke. “Hey, I bet you can’t get this into _that_ trashcan,” she pointed at a plastic bin situated right behind Anya, “from all the way here.”

The guy blinked. “Bet what?”

Raven shrugged dismissively. “Your… manhood?”

Apparently, that was exactly what the guy needed to hear because with a guttural roar of _PIZZA OR DEATH,_ he flung the drink as hard as he could at the far wall. Impressively enough, the cup _did_ land in the intended receptacle, unlike its contents which ended up just splattering all over the wall. 

And Anya.

“Oh shit. Grounder princess looks pissed,” Raven said, slapping at the guy’s beefy arm. “You should get a-runnin’, bro.”

The Zeta brother gaped at Raven in confusion, but as soon as he caught sight of Anya stalking over—all rigid and glowering—he let out a yelp and sprinted for the exit. Anya just stayed the course, her pace quickening slightly as she followed him out. 

“All right, now _this,_ I gotta see!” Raven declared. She dragged a protesting Lafontaine by the arm through the same doorway.

Octavia looked back at Clarke and Laura in disbelief. “Remind me to never get on Raven’s…” She frowned. “Wait, that wasn’t even her bad side! She doesn’t even _know_ Anya!”

“Chaotic neutral,” Laura said simply. “But damn. Remind me to never get on _Anya’s_ bad side, holy Hufflepuff…”

“I _know…_ Still hot though?”

Laura glanced not so subtly at Lexa. “Well… I don’t know.”

Octavia fixed her with a knowing grin and took her drink, nodding towards Lexa. “Well, now’s your chance. Go get ‘er, tiger!”

“Okay. Okay, okay… _Wait!”_ Laura grabbed her cup, still in Octavia’s hand, and took one last gulp that led to another series of coughs. “Jeez. Okay, _now_ I’m ready,” she choked out. Then with a deep breath and squared shoulders, Laura marched over to the now unaccompanied Lexa. 

“I’d give it… ten minutes,” Octavia said, leaning closer to Clarke.

“What?”

“Just watch. In ten minutes, they’re going to be an item.”

Laura approached Lexa with a bright smile, shyly getting her attention with a tentative touch to the arm. Lexa’s head snapped up, body instinctively drawing back, but her impassive exterior was already beginning to falter. 

Clarke took a long drink from her cup. “What makes you say that?”

“You know Laura. And her ridiculous amount of endearing charm…”

It was no surprise to see Laura expressing herself with ease, talking with her hands as much as her mouth, but Lexa was responding. It was in that classic reticent, subdued Lexa-esque fashion, but she was actually responding. 

Then, Octavia’s arm flew out, almost knocking Clarke’s drink out of her hand. She shook Clarke’s shoulder vigorously with a tight grip, but there was no need for such dramatics. Because Clarke hadn’t looked away from the pair since Laura first made her way over and was privy to the exact same view as Octavia. 

So, yeah, Clarke had also seen the way Lexa hesitantly took Laura’s outstretched hand. How she let herself get tugged away to the pong table. The slight blush creeping up her neck.

“Under two minutes!” Octavia exclaimed wildly. “She’s got Lexa playing beer pong in under _two_ minutes.” She cackled, her elbow digging into Clarke’s side. “Zero to drinking games, real quick! Amirite?

“Yup." Clarke knocked back her drink, crumpling the cup and tossing it behind her. "You're right," she said, pointedly looking away from the pong table. “Time for shots?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the first version, it's no big deal. I only ask that you immediately forget all about it and never discuss it with anyone in the entire universe for the rest of eternity.
> 
> Thanks, lovelies (:


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see.

Clarke managed to avoid all forms of social interaction for the rest of the weekend, conveniently blaming her hangover because, well, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

But when Monday came around, Clarke had no choice but to show up to practice bright and early lest she incurred the wrath of Indra. 

_Again_ , that is. 

Thankfully, it ended up being a pretty straightforward practice: a couple of drills, some laps, a practice game, etc. Indra didn’t push them too, too hard. She seemed to understand the after-party sluggishness and cut her players some slack just for having shown up in the first place. But of course, not  _too_ much slack. So, when Indra blew her whistle, signaling the end of practice with a dismissive wave, everyone blew a collective sigh of relief and trudged their way back to the locker room. 

Eager to get started on a long day of scheduled nothing, Clarke made a beeline for the athletic center, her steps slowing when she noticed someone loitering by the doorway.

“Laura?”

The blonde spun around with a start. “Hey, Clarke! How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Clarke laughed. “What are you doing here?” But she was pretty sure that she already knew. 

Laura tried to shrug casually. “Oh, you know. You went AWOL for the weekend, so I just wanted to drop by and, you know, catch up. I brought coffee!” She gestured wildly at a couple of Starbucks cups sitting on the window ledge. 

Groaning in appreciation, Clarke rushed forward to grab a drink. She indulged in two delicious, refreshing mouthfuls before pressing the cold cup against her temple. “I literally love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Laura said, rolling her eyes. She drummed her fingers on the remaining cup. “Where’s Octavia? I have one for her—”

A streak of bright clothes and dark hair shot past Clarke, barreling straight into Laura. “How is my tiny gay?” Octavia squealed, latched onto the giggling girl.

“I’m fine!” Laura said. She swatted at Octavia’s hands. “O, stop it, you’re going to spill your latte!” Upon seeing the cup in Laura’s hand, Octavia disengaged herself and accepted the drink with a grateful hum.

Several Grounders walked past the trio, a few nodding and acknowledging Laura with a wave. Laura waved back dutifully, but her eyes were roaming distractedly.

“So,” Octavia said, playing with her straw. “You… looking for Lexa?”

“What? Pfft…” Laura scoffed, cheeks reddening slightly. “I—yes, a little bit, okay?” 

Octavia sniggered into her fist, but Laura just focused her gaze intently past Clarke’s shoulder and it wasn’t long before her eyes brightened in recognition. Laura immediately started waving enthusiastically, a broad grin lighting up her face.

Still sipping at her latte, Clarke turned around just in time to witness Lexa freezing in place.

The girl blinked, slowly raising her hand halfway into a wave before abruptly turning on her heel. She walked off on stiff legs, brushing past Anya, who called after her in bewilderment. But Lexa didn’t even look back, never breaking her mechanical stride.

“Uh, where is she going?” Octavia frowned. “I’m pretty sure she’s still got stuff in her locker.”

Clarke sneaked a peek back at Laura and her heart plummeted heavily at her friend’s crestfallen face.

“Well. I certainly imagined that going a _little_ differently,” Laura joked with a rueful smile. Clarke put an arm around Laura’s shoulders and gently squeezed while Octavia clapped her on the back.

“It’s all good,” Octavia insisted. “Wonder Girl’s not all that great anyway… Right, Clarke?”

“Right.”

“… Right,” Laura echoed softly. She took time to wave at a few more Grounders, smile faltering when she caught sight of a certain tall red-head.

“Laura,” Danny mumbled in greeting as she briskly walked past the girls. 

“Oh, hey.” But Danny was already gone, so Laura just sighed to herself. After a beat, she covered her face with a small laugh “… This was a mistake. I see that now.”

A pang of guilt twisted in Clarke’s gut. “Hey, wanna come over?” she asked, pulling Laura closer. “I’ve got a bottle of beer and a Netflix queue with your name on it.”

“Yeah, Laur. Come on over.” Octavia smiled encouragingly. “Girls’ night! Or we can invite Raven and Laf, and make it a buds’ night.”

Laura smiled gratefully, but shook her head. “Thanks, but my dad’s calling in a few and that’s probably going to take up the whole afternoon.”

So, they said their farewells, exchanging hugs and promises to hang out before the semester started. But Clarke couldn't help her frown as she watched Laura shuffle away with her hands shoved deep inside her pockets. 

//

Clarke yawned. She put the finishing touches on her drawing, carefully studying the angles one last time before snapping her sketchbook shut with a satisfied nod. 

She sat up and stretched out her back and arms, feeling her muscles protest the movement right away. With good reason too, Clarke realized when she checked her phone. She had been sketching for the last two and a half hours straight, all the while leaning against a tree trunk that was the very antithesis of coziness.

Brushing off her pants, Clarke settled into a comfortable stroll and began making her way back towards campus. She sighed contentedly. It was at times like these—with the moonlight spilling across the grass, the evening air still and crisp—that Clarke had to admit she had chosen the right school. 

Silas University was far from perfect, but it nevertheless had its charming moments, and as an artist, how could Clarke resist the beautiful?

Plus, it didn’t hurt that it was late, and nobody else was out and about to interrupt her pleasant solitude. 

Well. 

Almost nobody. 

Heart jumping straight into her throat, Clarke registered an all too familiar figure running in the distance. She cupped her hands around her mouth and was calling out Lexa’s name before she could stop herself. 

Lexa faltered mid-step, slowing down to a moderate jog to inspect her surroundings. She came to a complete stop when she noticed Clarke waving at her. After a hesitant wave back and a brief pause, she approached Clarke in a slight jog.

“Hello, Clarke,” Lexa greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. It must have been quite the run for even _Lexa_ to be winded. “What are you doing here?”

“Drawing,” Clarke said, raising her sketchbook. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Running," Lexa returned just as brusquely. Then she frowned. “Drawing..? Out here? This late?”

“I could say the same things to you,” Clarke retorted. "Especially 'cause I actually know where you live now, so _this_ …” she gestured at Lexa’s running gear, “is kinda ridiculous. How long have you been out here anyway?”

“Not long.” Lexa glanced at her wristwatch. “Two or three hours.”

“Two or—” Clarke threw up her hands. “What the hell, Lexa? That’s how long you’re supposed to be sifting through clickbait articles—not _run!”_ She ran a hand through her blonde hair in exasperation. “Did you drive here at least?”

Lexa shook her head and Clarke just stared at her incredulously. 

“Seriously? You actually _ran_ all the way here from your place? That’s gotta be, like, what… 20 miles at least.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’m driving you home.” She jabbed a finger at Lexa when she tried to protest. “No. You’re sweating and it’s chilly out. That’s how people get sick.” Clarke beckoned impatiently until Lexa reluctantly fell in step with her.

“I don’t get sick,” Lexa muttered. 

“Yeah, and I bet you don’t get cat scratches all over your hands either.”

Lexa walked the rest of the way in a resentful silence. 

//

The car ride was admittedly a bit awkward. 

At first, Clarke wanted to play some music, but Lexa didn’t recognize any of the artists— _Seriously? But Adele’s been_ all _over the radio!_ —so she ended up switching her iPod back off. She then  tried to fill the dead silence by nervously tapping on her steering wheel, but Lexa just kept staring down at her own folded hands. So, Clarke panicked.

“So!” she blurted out suddenly, the volume startling both herself and Lexa. “How was your weekend?” 

“It was… eventful,” Lexa answered, her tone even.

“I saw you at the Zeta party on Saturday.” 

Lexa stiffened ever so slightly. “Yes…” She fidgeted with her water bottle for a good five minutes before continuing, “Your friend. The one we helped move in? She was there.”

“Yeah, she was." Clarke tightened her grip on the wheel and casually added, "She was also at practice today,” and Lexa fell silent once more. Clarke wanted to groan, but didn’t. “What do you think of her?”

Lexa raised her head. “Sorry?”

“Of Laura. What do you think of her?”

The resulting pause lingered long and heavy, and Clarke was about to apologize and change the subject when Lexa finally replied. 

“… She’s bright. Engaging.” Lexa coughed, embarrassed. “…uh, adorable.”

The word was mumbled so quietly that Clarke almost attributed it to her imagination, but Lexa was swallowing hard and her ears were pink. 

“She’s good people, you know,” Clarke eventually said. She glanced over and saw Lexa looking back at her curiously. “Laura, I mean. She’s good people and… " Clarke sighed, "And she thinks you smell really good and likes how strong and warm your hands are.”

Lexa’s face somehow remained neutral despite the red flush creeping down her neck.

“I don’t know how you feel about the ladies,” Clarke continued, “but Laura’s one of the good ones, and I know for a fact that if you asked her out to coffee, she would say Yes without hesitation.”

Lexa flinched and faced forward again, posture snapping upright. “My parents wouldn’t approve,” she said quietly. “School is for education and developing profitable connections. A gi—” Lexa cleared her throat. “Anything else would just be a distraction. A weakness.”

Clarke chewed on her lip, digesting the words as she pulled up in front of Lexa’s place. 

“Thank you for the ride, Clarke. Good night.” But Clarke put her hand over Lexa’s when she went to unbuckle her seatbelt. Lexa looked up in surprise. 

“Look. I know you think I don't get it or whatever, but I do,” Clarke said slowly. “Parents are looking out for your future, right? _But..._ they can also be overbearing, too demanding, and sometimes even flat-out wrong.” She squeezed Lexa’s hand in hers. “This is _your_ life, Lexa. Not theirs.”

Lexa sat in silence, lips in a firm line, green eyes averted. Rolling her eyes, Clarke released Lexa’s hand and asked for her phone. Lexa blinked . “Why?”

Clarke didn’t answer. Just held her hand out expectantly until Lexa handed the phone over. 

“I’m programming Laura’s number in here. Re- _lax._ ” Clarke sighed when Lexa started to go rigid. “It’s just a phone number. You can do whatever you want with it. Delete it as soon as you leave my car for all I care. But...” 

Clarke looked up, making sure to level her eyes with Lexa’s. “But if you want to get to know a really nice gal who _actually_ wants to hang out with you for some reason, here it is.” She held up the phone, screen out. “See? I even put it the way you like: _L. Hollis.”_

Nodding mutely, Lexa accepted her phone. She stepped out of the car and paused briefly with her hand on the door before crouching back down to say, “Thank you, Clarke.”

“For what?” 

“For… being a good friend,” Lexa settled on with a trace of a smile. 

Clarke scoffed, making shooing motions with a hand. “All right, get out of here, weirdo.” 

With one last nod, Lexa ducked out of the car and Clarke watched her disappear into her house.

“A 'good friend,' Clarke Griffin,” she muttered to herself. "Just a good friend."

//

A couple of days later, Clarke's sleep was rudely interrupted by a series of text messages from Laura:   
  


**Bestie4Lyfe [7:12 AM]:  
** CALWKRALK

**Bestie4Lyfe [7:12 AM]:  
** CLAKRLE

**Bestie4Lyfe [7:12 AM]:  
** CLARKEEK 

**Bestie4Lyfe [7:13 AM]:  
** CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU WAKE UP

**Bestie4Lyfe [7:13 AM]:  
** ASAP AS POSSIBLE ! ! ! 

 

Then later on at lacrosse practice, even Danny commented on how Wonder Girl seemed more upbeat than usual, and Clarke couldn’t help but agree because Lexa’s open and unhindered smile was indeed a beautiful sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long break in between updates; inspiration has been fickle & unforgiving.  
> But I hope to see you soon (:


	5. Chapter 5

Ever so true to their stereotype, Laura and Lexa’s courtship took off right away. All it took was a simple coffee date and a fair amount of charm on Laura’s part before the two girls—and by extension, their _hands_ —were inseparable.

But that wasn’t very surprising. 

Laura had always been a particularly affectionate person, an avid believer of PDA, and mild-mannered, prim and proper Lexa seemed incapable of denying her anything her little gay heart desired.

Raven often joked that the only reason the two hadn’t made it official yet was because Lexa didn’t have a Facebook. Lafontaine suggested it was because there were no U-Haul companies in the immediate vicinity. But even so, it had to be only a matter of time before the cute would-be girlfriends became  _actual_ girlfriends™.

And Clarke was happy for them. She honestly was, as it was already abundantly clear that Laura and Lexa could be very good for each other. But Clarke could maybe do without seeing them behave so openly lovey-dovey all the time. 

She wasn’t the only one who felt that way either.

“God, they’re touchy,” Octavia said with a laugh. She nudged Clarke’s shoulder, almost spilling her whiskey. “We’ve been at the bar for all of 10 minutes and they’re already glued at the hips.”

Clarke shrugged. “They’re happy, O.” She refused to be the Debbie Downer of the bar. Even her normally stony-faced team captain was grinning and enjoying herself. Granted, it _was_ Indra’s birthday and she was indeed heavily plastered, courtesy of all the free birthday shots. But Clarke intended to be at least as upbeat as the captain was.

Or at least as drunk.

Perhaps drunker.

Turning away from the happy twosome, Clarke ordered yet another whiskey for herself. She was about halfway through her drink when Octavia excused herself to seek out Lincoln, no doubt to hypocritically engage in her own overly affectionate display. 

Such was life.

“So, are you cruising for a threesome?”

Clarke looked up from her tumbler in surprise, coming face to face with a stranger seated at the recently vacated stool. At first glance, the stranger appeared attractive. At all the subsequent glances, Clarke had to amend her impression because said stranger was in fact _extremely_ attractive. 

Not that Clarke was staring.

The girl smirked. As if she knew just how much Clarke was “not” staring.

“Because believe me,” the stranger continued in a drawl, taking a sip of her cocktail. “They’re not as fun as you might think…”

“What?” Then Clarke remembered. “Oh. No, I’m not looking for a threesome. Thanks though.” She faced forward with a weak smile. That was that.

“Oh no?” The girl peeked past Clarke’s shoulder. “Okay, well, which one are you eye-fucking then?”

Clarke choked mid-sip of whiskey. “The _what?_ No! There is absolutely no… fucking of the eyes or any kind going on here!”

Plucking the cherry out of her glass, the stranger popped the tiny red fruit into her mouth and chewed slowly, an impeccable eyebrow quirked. She didn’t have to say anything.

“They’re both friends of mine,” Clarke clarified, raising her glass towards the couple in question. 

At the moment, Laura and Lexa were standing awfully close to each other—Laura swinging Lexa’s hand with both of her own, Lexa smiling down at the giggling blonde. 

Adorable. 

“I actually kinda set them up myself," Clarke said.

“Right,” mused the girl, “and you’re self-medicating with cheap whiskey because… everything went to spec?” 

Clarke tore her eyes from her friends to frown at the girl. “Self-medicating?”

“Yes, princess. Self-medicating.” The girl traced a single delicate finger around the rim of her glass, the movement immediately catching Clarke’s eye. “I’ve been watching you, and in the course of the last half-hour, you’ve had almost three drinks all the while staring at those two. Just pining away."

“Princess? _Pining?”_ Clarke echoed incredulously. “And… you were watching me?” She finally turned in her seat to study her newfound company properly. 

Jet-black hair, long and wavy, brushing the tops of her bare shoulders. Porcelain skin with sharp, angular features. High cheekbones. Full lips. Dark and penetrating eyes. And a sinfully low-cut tank-top stretched across the swell of her breasts.

So… okay. 

Not only was this girl kinda (very) hot, she also just confirmed that she might have been checking Clarke out for a while now. Which was certainly something to take into consideration. However…

“I’m not pining though, so you’re wrong about that,” Clarke said. 

The girl exhaled a laugh. “No, I’m not,” she said shortly and Clarke scowled. “And that scrunched up face you make when you’re mad is adorable, buttercup. But fine. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” Clarke muttered, facing forward again.

“So, when are you taking me home?”

Sputtering, Clarke choked on her whiskey for the second time within five minutes,  _“What?”_

The girl rolled her eyes. “Look. You’re obviously into women and I’m hot, so I know you’re into me. I’m just letting you know I’m game.” Her tone was casual, as if propositioning strangers at a bar for sex was business as usual, and though her cocktail glass was now empty, she kept chewing on the cherry stem as she spoke.

It was definitely not distracting. At all.

“This is not… how people are supposed to have conversations. Also, I don’t even _know_ you,” Clarke protested.

The girl just smirked in response, her voice dropping low and sultry, “Well, not yet.”

Clarke snorted, belying the warm flush settling in her stomach. “Seriously? _That’s_ the line you’re going with?”

“It works about 80% of the time.”

“Well, you better mark me down for the other 20 then…”

“Oh, don’t be so sure yet,” the girl almost purred. She held out a hand. “Name’s Carmilla, sweetheart.”

Now those slender fingers Clarke was pretending to not have noticed were wrapped around her hand. She noted that Carmilla's grip was almost gentle, pale skin warm against hers.

“Clarke.”

“Clarke? That’s an interesting name.”

“Really? Your name’s _Carmilla,”_ Clarke retorted. She only noticed then that Carmilla had yet to release her hand, seemingly content with rubbing her thumb over Clarke’s knuckles.

“Okay, fair point,” Carmilla said, smirking. “Take me home?”

Clarke groaned to herself because now she was actually kinda considering it. “Why me though?”

“Really?” Carmilla leaned in close enough that Clarke could smell her strawberry shampoo and see down her shirt. 

(Again. Not that Clarke was looking.)

“Princess,” came the low drawl, “you have gorgeous blue eyes, long flowing blonde hair, and the cleavage of a super-model. You’re basically a modern-day Aphrodite.”

Clarke blinked. “Says the girl with a jawline chiseled by Michelangelo himself,” she murmured before she could stop herself. 

Carmilla’s smirk grew wide. “Trust me, sweetheart. Anyone at this bar would be more than happy to get naked with and on top of you.” Her dark eyes flicked down Clarke’s figure. “Or underneath…” 

Heat rushed to fill Clarke’s cheeks. 

“But you should pick me,” Carmilla went on, “because I’m hot, amazing in bed, and more than capable of numbing you in all the right ways.” She dropped a hand on top of Clarke’s tumbler when Clarke went for another sip of whiskey, her fingertips almost burning into Clarke’s skin. “Let me show you how sex can be a much better anti-depressant than alcohol.”

“I can’t leave,” Clarke said with a groan. “My friends are here.”

Carmilla shot an impassive glance over Clarke’s shoulder. “Don’t think they’ll miss you too much, buttercup.”

Following Carmilla’s gaze, Clarke saw the friends in question caught in a passionate lip-lock. Laura leaning up into Lexa, hands cupping her face, Lexa’s arms circling around Laura’s waist, and okay… That hurt.

“Fine,” Clarke sighed, averting her gaze. “Fine, okay.” She wasn’t sure if she was agreeing because the PDA was making her uncomfortable or because Carmilla’s dark eyes were furthest thing from forest green as possible. Either way, Clarke was convinced. “All right, just let me finish my drink and…” but Carmilla was already taking the tumbler from her hand.

Carmilla swallowed the whiskey in two gulps, her features casual, impressively betraying no burning sensation. She grinned at Clarke’s open-mouthed shock (and annoyance) and explained as she held up a finger for each point:

“1) I’m poor, 2) This was shit whiskey anyway, and 3) I need you sober enough to consent to all the filthy things I want to do to you tonight."  Then Carmilla leaned in, hand tilting up Clarke’s chin, and pressed their lips together, her tongue tasting of cherries and stolen whiskey.

“Okay…” Clarke said softly, a bit dazed, once Carmilla pulled away. “Uh, my place or yours?”

“Yours,” Carmilla whispered, pecking at Clarke’s lips. “But I’m driving.”

//

Despite having been silent throughout the whole car ride, Clarke’s mouth felt dry as she opened her front door. Carmilla hadn’t touched her since the kiss back at the bar, and the alcohol was fading at such a fast rate that Clarke wasn’t even sure how this was actually happening.

Clarke closed the door behind her with a shaky breath. When she turned on the lights, the first thing she noticed was Octavia’s door ajar, as if to remind her that she was indeed entirely alone in the house.

With Carmilla.

Who was now studying some of the artwork hanging from the walls. 

Clarke awkwardly cleared her throat and Carmilla looked over, her fingertips still tracing over one of Clarke's assignment from the previous semester.

“This is from the grove behind the botany building,” Carmilla said, eyes returning to the painting. It depicted a very specific view of the night sky from one of Clarke's go-to sketching nooks. A view that Carmilla apparently recognized. 

Somewhat taken aback, Clarke blinked, her hand scratching the back of her neck. “Yeah, it’s kinda messy. Oil paint’s not my forte, but I somehow managed to scrape an _A_ in that class, so… yay.”

Carmilla’s head snapped around. “You painted this?”

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke said hesitantly. She shifted her weight between her feet. This was the first time that Carmilla’s voice wasn’t colored with seduction or indifference, and Clarke wasn’t too sure what she was supposed to do with that.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” The silence stretched out, long and awkward. “Do you… want some water?”

“Please…” Carmilla drawled, seduction eyes re-engaged. 

Clarke poured out two glasses, one of which she handed off to Carmilla, who was now slouched on the sofa. When Clarke dropped into the chair across from her despite the ample room on the couch, Carmilla raised an eyebrow quizzically but didn’t comment. 

“So,” Clarke said, licking her lips nervously, “what now?” 

The smirk, which Clarke was starting to realize was a permanent feature on Carmilla’s face, just widened. Carefully setting her glass on the tea table, Carmilla stalked over to Clarke. When she climbed onto Clarke’s lap, effectively straddling her, Clarke slowly released a strained breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Well, first, I’m going to fuck you really hard,” Carmilla murmured almost conversationally. “Then you’re going to fuck _me_ really hard. Then I’m going to eat you out until you’re begging me to stop.” Her hips began grinding leisurely against Clarke’s. “And then, we’ll see where it goes from there…”

Clarke’s mouth opened slightly. “Oh… kay,” she let out slowly. Carmilla’s weight on her lap was not unpleasant and the way Carmilla's hands were brushing back her hair even seemed a little affectionate. But maybe things were still moving a little too fast. 

“… Hey.”

“Hey,” Carmilla returned with a smug grin, clearly pleased with Clarke’s flustered state. “I’m going to kiss you now. If that’s all right with you.”

An assent had barely passed Clarke’s lips before Carmilla’s were pressed against them. Hard. With a soft sigh, Clarke leaned up into the kiss and their mouths fit perfectly against each other, and goddamn was Carmilla good at this…

“Wait,” Clarke managed to gasp. She pressed her hand against Carmilla's shoulder, and Carmilla pulled back right away, her dark eyes practically black with desire. “I don’t… It’s been a while,” _especially t_ _his sober,_ “and I’m probably kinda rusty…”

“What,” Carmilla said amused. “You forget how to lie back and take it like a good girl?”

(Well, she certainly had a way with words, Clarke would give her that.)

“I just don’t want to disappoint…” Clarke mumbled shyly. Normally by this point, Clarke was so far gone that proficiency in bed never actually came up. But now that she was dead sober and a really—really, _really—_ hot girl was sitting on her lap, Clarke was feeling even less confident than usual.

Carmilla purred, hands sliding up Clarke’s chest to squeeze at her shoulders. “Really? Have you _seen_ you? Trust me. I won’t be disappointed, buttercup.” She leaned in and nipped at Clarke’s ear, prompting a sharp intake of breath. “But if you’re really that worried, I promise we can take it… very… slow…” She whispered the last words directly into Clarke’s ear before licking up the shell. 

An unexpected whimper bubbled up Clarke’s throat before she could control herself. She swallowed hard, her eyes closed as she tried to gather herself. “Okay,” she eventually mumbled into Carmilla’s hair. 

“Okay?” Carmilla said with a chuckle.

“Okay,” Clarke confirmed, pulling Carmilla’s face closer for a hungry kiss.

Carmilla hummed contentedly. “Good,” she said, expertly undoing Clarke’s jeans with one hand while the other tangled into Clarke’s blonde hair. 

Clarke blinked, breaking off the kiss. “Wait. I thought you wanted to—” Clarke moaned against Carmilla’s mouth when insistent fingers pressed against her wet heat. 

“We have all night to go slow, sweetheart,” Carmilla said, fingers never pausing in their ministrations. “But right now, I want to find out just how fast I can make you come…”

That wasn’t something Clarke felt a pressing need to protest. 

//

When Clarke woke up, her body was exhausted, but warm and buzzed—the kind of relaxation that could only from a gratuitous number of orgasms.

She rolled over and found the other side of the bed empty, which she figured as much. Carmilla didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked to stick around after the fact. It was also probably why she had insisted on driving them last night. A readily available car definitely precluded the need for a  _literal_ walk of shame.

After a brief inspection of the fridge, Clarke determined that they desperately needed to go grocery shopping and that she would have to go out for breakfast today. Then after an extended search for her wallet, Clarke determined that she must have left it back at the bar. _Again._

“… _Fuck,”_ Clarke groaned to herself. Messing up her hair in frustration, she paced the living room as she thought through her options. The first two times Clarke had driven without her license, everything went smoothly and according to plan. The third time, however, had resulted in a hefty fine and her mother threatening to cut her off in the event of any other traffic-related misdemeanors...

Thankfully, there was at least _one_ person who would be up at this hour despite a heavy night of drinking. Clarke made the call, balancing the phone against her ear and shoulder as she pulled on her shoes.

“Clarke! Hey!” 

Clarke opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. 

“Hello?” came the voice again. Laura’s voice.

“Hey… Laur. Is Lexa there?”

“Yup! She’s just making pancakes!” Laura chirped. “I went to get the phone for her, but saw it was you and answered, and here we are! What’s up?”

“You slept over…” Clarke said.

“Yeah! I mean, _no!”_ Laura’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Nothing happened! Not what you’re thinking anyway… It was all very PG.” She coughed. “… uh, 13? All over the clothes stuff. Yeah.”

Clarke closed her eyes. “Okay. Um, I just needed a small favor, but it’ll be okay.”

“What? What’s the favor?”

“Nah, it was nothing,” Clarke insisted, waving her hand even though she knew her friend couldn’t see. “Enjoy yourself, okay, Laur?”

“Sure thing! See ya, Clarke.”

Clarke fell backwards onto her bed, curling up into her pillow that smelled vaguely of that sweet perfume Carmilla had been wearing the previous night. After a few more moments and a deep sigh, Clarke shot out a text:

 

**Clarke [9:27 AM]  
** Hey, you awake?

**yOUR mOM, ClaARKE! [9:28 AM]  
** ya. had an early meeting w/ my advisor. what’s up?

**Clarke [9:30 AM]  
** Can you drive me to The Anglerfish? I left my wallet there.

**yOUR mOM, ClaARKE! [9:30 AM]  
** lol only if u buy me brunch on the way back

**Clarke [9:31 AM]  
** Ugh. Deal.

**yOUR mOM, ClaARKE! [9:31 AM]  
** sweeeeeeeeeet :D

 

Unfortunately for Clarke, she forgot to check the mirror before getting into Raven’s car and thus ended up suffering through hours of unrelenting commentary on the three hickeys Carmilla had sucked into her skin. Clarke just rolled her eyes at Raven’s teasing remarks, brushing them off one by one. But when she pressed her fingertips against the red bruises and felt that slight twinge, Clarke had to admit that it was definitely worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading ❤️


End file.
